


Before the Dive

by erebones



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Demisexuality, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Polyamory, Rey POV, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are an unconventional threesome, full of late nights, stolen kisses, and sleepy puppy piles when they can no longer stand to stay awake. It's comfortable, predictable, until Rey walks into something completely off her radar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Dive

**Author's Note:**

> I love this idea I see cropping up wherein Rey, Finn, and Poe are in a polyamorous triad, with Rey being a demi/grey-ace/queerplatonic part of that. Being demi myself, I wanted to explore her blossoming sexual interests, as she experiences it, through the lens of Finn and Poe's sexuality. Hope you enjoy! Part two should be up in a few days.

Rey is tired. So tired. Her body feels like it’s been pummeled by a sandstorm, her muscles stringy and useless as sink-sand as she makes her way to the rooms she shares with Finn and Poe. 

Saving the galaxy does have some perks, it appears—the Resistance base on D’Qar is expanding barely fast enough to keep up with its new recruits, but space was made to offer the three of them a two-room suite, the likes of which are usually given to high-ranking officers four at a time. It’s sparse, but it’s better than that first week after Starkiller was destroyed, when Finn and Poe slept head to toe in Poe’s cramped pilot quarters and Rey bunked in the Falcon just to get some space for herself. 

Space that’s getting harder and harder to come by these days. If she isn’t training with Skywalker or tinkering on the Falcon—an ongoing project, as Chewie confirms has always been the case—someone, somewhere, has need of her. She’s important now, apparently; people seek out her opinion on things she barely understands, and Skywalker encourages her to step up and accept this new role that’s suddenly been thrust upon her. “Jedi have always been looked to in troubled times,” he’ll say whenever she makes noises about being too young, too ignorant, too sheltered. “What you do not know, you will learn, and you will be a better Jedi for it.” Between him and General Organa, she almost feels like a Resistance leader—and more than that, a scion, a beacon of hope. Things that terrify her when she thinks about them for too long, so she doesn’t. Or tries not to, anyway.  

Which is why she’s hoping Finn and Poe will still be awake when she gets back to their shared quarters. They’re always good at keeping the doubt at bay—not by confronting it head-on, but just by being themselves. Laughing, teasing one another and her, playing cards raucously into the night until Rey falls asleep on someone’s shoulder and she can sleep dreamlessly. They have two rooms, one for the boys and one for her, but it rarely works out that way. As much as casual physical contact still startles her, the comfortable familiarity of dozing off against Finn and waking up on the edge of their shared mattress is something she can handle. And when she sneaks out before either of them are awake, they never mention it, never make her feel silly for it. 

She’s not an idiot—she knows what sex is. She knows all the things that surround it, like concentric circles of intimacy that by turns intrigue and repel her. She knows, too, that sometimes Finn and Poe will kiss each other while she lays in bed beside them pretending to sleep. Maybe it should be weird, or maybe not—she has no real way to measure “weirdness,” especially in terms of… whatever this is. All she knows is that what makes them happy, makes her happy. Kissing and card-playing and picnics by the lake; all one and the same, as far as she’s concerned. And they always ask before they kiss her, always patient, never pushing at the edges of her comfort. She appreciates them more than she knows how to tell them, more than she knows how to understand herself.

She realizes, quite suddenly, that she’s arrived at their quarters and is standing outside them staring listlessly at the door. Oops. She palms the scanner and steps inside. It’s dark and deserted in the common room, which is odd—it’s not _that_ late, even if her body feels like it, and the boys are usually well into their second round of slapjack at this point. She peeks into her own room, but it’s empty and neat as a pin, just as she left it. Then she hears it: a faint creaking, soft and rhythmic, with the occasional grunt or groan, too dim to be perfectly audible but definitely belonging to Finn. Recognition settles through her worn-out body—Poe is probably giving him a back massage. His physical therapy is progressing apace, but he still gets stiff easily, and Poe and Rey often take turns working the muscle and knotted scar tissue until he can move freely again. With this is mind, she slips across the common area, still in her grimy training clothes, and peeks through the cracked-open door. 

What she sees stops her in her tracks. Heat prickles over her without her knowing exactly why, and she backs away from the spill of light pouring out from the boys’ room, suddenly terrified of being seen. Finn and Poe are on the bed— _on_ , not in—their naked bodies melded together like the swirling sands of the volcano flats on Jakku, dark and light meeting and separating and coming together again. Slowly logic reasserts itself, and she sees and reinterprets the scene before her. Poe is on his back, bare as daylight, strong arms digging into the sheets and his dark, stormy head thrown back among the pillows. The dim yellow light of the solar lamp throws his features into stark relief, and she can see everything—his scrunched-up eyes, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the droplet of sweat sliding down his jutting collarbones. His knees are sprawled wide against the mattress, and Finn moves between them, his spine a single perfect curve and his head hanging low between his bulky shoulders. It’s this movement that jars the mattress gently against the wall, and draws the thin, keening thread of sound from Finn’s throat. From both of them; Poe is quieter, but at this closer proximity Rey can hear him, little muffled gasps as Finn rocks their bodies together. 

She has never felt a particular interest in pursuing physical release, with others or by herself, but she suddenly understands why someone might _want_ to. Her heart is pounding in her chest and lower, between her thighs—she can feel the hot throb of it echoed all the way to the tips of her fingers. She should back away, return to her own room. This wasn’t meant for her eyes. But she can’t quite bring herself to leave. _Why did they leave the door open?_ she wonders, swallowing back a strange thickness in her throat. _Have they done this before and I just haven’t caught them at it?_ The thought stabs her like a knife, but the ache it produces isn’t unpleasant.

She leans toward the light. One hand braces against the wall, holding up her own shaking weight, and the other knots itself in her tunic of its own volition. She needs it, something to ground her, something to make her feel in control. Inside the bedroom, Finn’s breath is coming faster and his rhythm is losing its military rigidity. Poe claws the sheets and groans, long and low, and it feels like fingers dragging down her spine. 

“Oh,” Finn gasps suddenly. She looks, and Poe is reaching up for him, cupping his face between his pilot’s hands and pulling Finn down for a kiss. It’s not the kind of kiss they share when it’s just the three of them, brief and warm, nor is it like the kisses they sometimes trade in the middle of the night when they think Rey is asleep, soft and slow and a little bit needy. This kiss is open, wet, hardly a kiss at all, only their tongues meeting and their lips slip-sliding without purchase. Finn tangles his fingers in Poe’s dark curls and drags his head back, exposing his sweaty throat to his mouth. Poe bits his lip, thrashes his head side to side as Finn does something with his teeth that Rey can’t quite see. She leans forward ever so slightly for a closer look. 

Just then, Poe’s head turns and his eyes fly open as Finn bites down, and they latch immediately onto Rey, lurking barely out of sight. Fear spears through her, and she freezes, a tiny animal caught in the gaze of its predator. 

Poe’s eyes flutter closed again and he moans. “Oh, _fuck_ , darling you feel so good…”

“Nnnnggh. Poe, don’t—what if Rey comes back?”

Rey flinches, but Poe gives a small cry and bows his back, drowning out her fears. “Then let—let her hear,” he gasps. “We have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Privately, Rey agrees. They are beautiful together, their bodies moving and surging, muscles working under the skin and the sounds of their fucking rising readily in their air: skin slapping skin, gasps and moans and faint cries, the slide of the sheets and the rhythmic thunk of the mattress hitting the wall. The throb between her legs doesn’t fade away, as it does when she sometimes wakes from dreams about the secret things that dwell in her most private thoughts. Instead it only grows stronger, gripping her, until she finally succumbs and lets the hand knotted in her tunic slip down into her trousers. Between her legs is slippery and hot, and provokes a flare of need so powerful she nearly keens aloud. 

On the bed, Poe arches and cries out. “Fuck! Fuck, darling, _yes_ I’m nearly there—”

“You’re gorgeous,” Finn grits, propping himself up on one arm so he can hold Poe’s leg wide. It’s as if he, too, knows Rey is there—the change in angle allows her to see _everything_. Her fingers slide deeper, harder, and she bites down on her lower lip, hard, as she feels her body gathering itself as if to jump. “Come on, love,” Finn murmurs, “come on, you beautiful thing. I wanna see you cum.”

So does Rey. Badly. She sags against the wall and her breaths puff out, barely audible, as she watches Finn grapple with Poe’s slim hips and haul him closer for a better angle. Poe whines, foot kicking out against the sheets—his face is red, flushing down his neck and across his chest, nipples standing upright and diaphragm heaving desperately. Then something seems to change in him. His body goes rigid, quivering, and his mouth drops open in a silent O; his eyes slam shut, and from somewhere between his legs, hidden now by the dark stretch of Finn’s thigh, thin white fluid spits out and paints his belly in gleaming stripes.

“Breathe, Poe,” Finn reminds him gently, still fucking him but with less vigor, and it feels like he’s speaking directly into Rey’s ear. She hauls in a breath, and it’s only Poe’s own ragged inhale that saves her from detection.

“Now you,” Poe says, breathless but determined.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“You won’t.” Poe cups Finn’s face, thumb tracing the swoop of his occipital bone. “Please, darling, I want you to.”

So Finn does. Rey watches with increasing fervor, finding the right angle and pressure and speed until her wrist aches and she longs for something more sturdy to rut against—Finn’s thigh, or the strong jut of Poe’s fingers, elegant and powerful and never without a bit of motor grease caught in the cuticle. Then, suddenly, it seizes her, a full-body wave that wipes through her with implacable force and leaves her shaking and barely able to stand. When she can see straight, Finn and Poe are kissing one another, hands moving slowly over each other’s bodies as if to check that all the parts are still in working order. For the first time since she laid eyes on them, she feels like an intruder. With shaking legs, Rey pushes away from the wall and walks numbly to her own room and the hot shower awaiting her there.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that we will never forget, seeing sinners of the night  
> I hope that we will never regret, seeing sinners of the night  
> 'Cause we can not, we can't ever, no we can not, take it back  
> -St. Lucia, Before the Dive
> 
> Also, apologies for any glaring mistakes--I grew up on the original movies and I've seen all six episodes many many times, but I've only seen TFA once as of now, and I don't have a lot of in-depth knowledge of the canonical lore (like with novelizations and comics et cetera), so if anything is terribly wrong please let me know!


End file.
